


Synapse

by Quitebrilliantindeed



Category: Xenosaga
Genre: And things like that, But weird, F/F, Present Tense, Smut, Trippy, U-DO
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-19 07:58:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/881365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quitebrilliantindeed/pseuds/Quitebrilliantindeed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shion isn't sure what to make of this. She's not even sure what this is.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> Half of me said: "write a trippy exploration of the nature of U-DO and Shion's contact with it!" And half of me said "write Shion/KOS-MOS smut!" And then, the two halves merged, and this was born. I don't claim to be an expert on U-DO and the nature of the Xenoverse, but I try damn hard to be as close as I can to one! Hopefully, this fic makes some sense within its guidelines.

There is nothing so vague as the subconscious, no entity or idea that matches its encompassing mystery, nor its terrifying unknown.

Shion isn’t even sure if subconscious is the correct word for what she is experiencing. In her confused and detached state, there is little basis for her to work from, and her mind naturally floats to the first, most obvious, explanation. This is a dream—a figment of her imagination, or some journey into her own soul.

But she knows that explanation is a lie—this feels more concrete than a dream, yet at the same time, more open, and distant. It feels… foreign, as if some other consciousness is mingling with her own and creating something new. It is catering to her whims, exploring her mind, and whispering strange questions to the dark corners of her beating heart.

It (herself?) is asking what she desires. Shion thinks that she’d like to shake her head in an expression of confusion, but finds no head—nor body—to move in this realm.

And then she does—the concept occurred to her, and it became reality. Is this “lucid dreaming” then? Or is something communicating with her, searching for a way to make her comprehend the situation?  
  
Where had she been before this—she was looking for—her friends were—who—

A voice echoes inside her, silencing her runaway mind. A hand presses itself against the small of her back, and not a moment later, another one comes to caress her hair. Shion finds that her eyes have drifted shut at some point or another, making it impossible to see who is there—or rather, who she perceives to be there.

A ball of fear bunches up in her chest, but she manages to pry her eyes open. Shion thinks she should be shocked, but her nerves must be cut from her body, as she feels nothing, nothing but a smooth, slick sense of peace and comfort.

“Shion…” KOS-MOS says in a voice that is both hers and not hers. Where is the metallic timbre? The lack of inflection? Her name sounds so different when spoken in this new voice, one that’s so rich with emotion and tenderness—it’s as if she has known and loved her for an eternity, not just a simple few years.

Shion tries to reply to this, but smothered by emotion, cannot. She settles for reaching out and tangling her hands into the sleek waterfall of her android’s hair, pulling her close, closer, closer, until their hearts might merge. She thinks that this can’t be real. KOS-MOS is slated to be junked—they are here to rescue her from that very fate.

Then why does this not feel wrong? This is her KOS-MOS—her cold lips slide over Shion’s—not an image—she feels her thick eyelashes against her cheek—nor a part of her subconscious—the hand on her back is slipping  up her dress—but perhaps a projection—KOS-MOS’s hand moves in closer and Shion thinks they’re becoming one—or a part of her own will?

Shion gives in. Her defenses drop and her body goes limp—it is KOS-MOS’s to support now, and support it she does, shifting their bodies closer, intertwining them like ribbons in the wind. Shion’s head slumps over KOS-MOS’s shoulder, tensing only as the searching hand below falls into the rhythms of her body and sends pleasure shooting up through her muscles and bones. Her skin prickles delightfully—the passionate gesture effectively cut it all away and exposed her wildly thrumming heart.

“Why?” She whispers to KOS-MOS through her pants and hums. As far as she knows, the question may not have even been directed towards her companion, but towards herself, or something else entirely. It was the only word on her lips—and thus she had said it, without pause or thought.

“It cannot be explained, not now,” The richly human voice floods her ear like a long-forgotten memory forged lifetimes ago, “In time, Shion.”

“I want to know… I want to know now.” She protests, squirming with a burst of emotion that she can’t contain. Her teeth scrape against the artificial skin of KOS-MOS’s neck and her fingers dig deeper in some strange conversion of frustration to passion.

“This is desire and will,” KOS-MOS explains, her lips lightly touched to Shion’s ear, “It belongs to you—this desire for love, for answers, and for self,” her mouth slips away, brushing along her cheek, to her nose, and finally rests upon her lips. “It’s yours, Shion… it is shown to you like this merely because this is how you can comprehend it.”

Shion draws her head back so that she may speak. “But I… That can’t be. None of this makes any sense.”

KOS-MOS shakes her head. “That is not what I meant by ‘comprehend.’ The existence in which you are in contact with is not something that can be translated so simply,” She looks to Shion in a manner that sings of gentle concern and bewilderment. “Does this frustrate you, Shion?”

Shion swallows hard and searches KOS-MOS’s eyes (blue-red-blue-red-blue—is she seeing things?) for something more, but comes up with nothing more than which she began with. What was she even expecting out of her? The question itself was hardly coherent to her right now. Nothing was coherent at all.

“I see,” She sighs, giving in, “…I think it does. I don’t know anymore…Really…I just…” Perhaps the time had come to stop asking questions—perhaps she would never obtain any answers, not here. All she knew of this place was a sense of warmth, a blurry confusion, and an overwhelming knife-edged fear—

“It’s time to wake up now, Shion.”

\--No, not just those things, but also KOS-MOS. She knows KOS-MOS, this fragment of KOS-MOS, better than she knows herself.

“Go. Go on, and find me…” Shion feels the lithe fingers slip back from her wet hips, with KOS-MOS’s entire form soon following suite. “…I’m waiting for you.”

Then she’s gone—not in flash, not in a haze—she was simply there, and now she is not. In turn, Shion finds herself without body or shape, much as she was at the start of this strange vision of hers.

“Is this what you want… Shion?” The voice is sudden and echoes in her heart—but it is not KOS-MOS this time—it is something without speech, without form, without anything that might let her call it a tangible being…

\--Shion’s eyes flicker open to a crowd gathered around her and half-a-dozen voices fluttering about nervously:

“Shion! Shion are you okay…?”

She nods stiffly as they badger her for answers, but their voices are still too distant for her to reach. Nevertheless, the awareness of what she had experienced slowly fades away into the blurry haze of her subconscious mind until she can hear them properly once again, and eagerly reassures them all of her health. Still, a pang of loss buries itself deep inside her chest—she feels the image of KOS-MOS’s face and the sultry pleasure she had given recede away with the rest of it, and it is not much longer until nothing but tiny fragments of her experience remain.

No matter—dreams are nothing more than dreams, and if she feels fine, she is fine. Time to find KOS-MOS.


End file.
